


Hope in Home

by FreckledSkittles



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Supernatural Elements, Dorks, Fae & Fairies, JeanMarco Gift Exchange, M/M, Nymphs & Dryads, Romance, Supernatural Elements, aka jean, the first thing ive written without angst wow
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2017-12-21
Packaged: 2019-02-18 03:58:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13091946
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FreckledSkittles/pseuds/FreckledSkittles
Summary: Marco wishes to help supernatural beings in whatever way he can, specifically providing a home for them to call their own and live in peace. He doesn't know the first thing about running a sanctuary, but the first step comes when a fairy name Jean falls on him and crashes into his life. He might not be prepared to run a safe place, but at least he has experience with a difficult, trick-playing, rather attractive fairy.For the JeanMarco Gift Exchange 2017.





	Hope in Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [chicalatina449](https://archiveofourown.org/users/chicalatina449/gifts).



> Happy Holidays chibichan!!! I hope you like this long-ass fantasy fic, in which Marco is a biochem who wants to help out supernatural beings and Jean is a prickly fairy with pretty wings and they totes like each other, but who's gonna say it? :0
> 
> I feel like I took a long time to draw out the request, and I probably added shit that didn't need to be put in, but it's all for the world building and worth it I promise.
> 
> Also, shout out to my cat for demanding pats and purring at me to pet him while I wrote this. I didn't need all your walks across my keyboard, but at least I love you <3
> 
> Anyway, I hope you enjoy!!!

Four years. That’s how long Marco had known Jean, though it felt like a lifetime ago when they had first crossed paths. In a parallel universe, or maybe another dimension, Jean might not have existed. Or, a thought that was a bit more calming, Jean would have been just as normal as him. Marco tried not to think about that too much, though, because he liked Jean for who—and what—he was. And he could say that with absolute certainty.

 

* * *

 

While studying away at textbooks and diagrams for a biochemistry degree, Marco occupied himself with various activities, from a position on an activist group’s executive board to a student on the Dean’s Advisory Council for the College of Arts and Science. It required office hours, but it never got boring; Bertholdt had most days with him, and his oblivious attention to Reiner’s constant flirting was amusing. If Marco was lucky, Ymir popped in with new information on an archaeological dig or some newly discovered fieldwork.

In other words: college life was filled with surprises and excitement, a train that chugged along and took stops along its routes when it needed to reload. His roommate Sasha never failed to barge in with arms full of snacks; occasionally, a dog walked past him on the Quad. Sometimes, a pegasus flew overhead or one of the centaur professors brought in freshly grown fruits during finals week. Supernatural beings were part of humans’ everyday lives, though a number of individuals and groups refused to accept them into society and tried to banish them. Marco found their biological structure fascinating, either compared to humans or with other supernatural beings. The growing hostility and push for relocation sparked a passion to finding a suitable and safe place for them to live.

This plan gave him one-on-one opportunities with such beings, and it made it easier to accept sudden situations, like when a fairy crashed into him and knocked him down one cool October morning in his junior year.

Marco, surprised and scrambling to ease the pressure of his backpack and the pang in his head, sat up to confirm that yes, a fairy had fallen on him. His blond hair was scraggly and messy, and the odor off his body told of cleaner days. The giant translucent wings on his back were relaxed and parallel to his arms, but there was a chip on one of the tips. The other had a tear, horizontal and not very pretty. The fairy was definitely breathing, but his eyes were closed, eyebrows knitted together, and he gave no response to nudges or whispers. He didn’t look well.

After a brief struggle to stand and lift the fairy up in his arms, Marco hurried to his office hours. Thankfully, he had a long break between his classes for the day, and Bertholdt was getting lunch. There was time to care for the fallen supernatural.

When he reached the A&S office, he gently put the fairy on the couch in the lobby, making sure that his wings were jutting out over the edge of the couch and not crunched beneath his body. The chipped wing looked like something that would only need time to heal, but the tear on the other required immediate care if it was going to heal correctly. He rushed out to wash his hands thoroughly, thankful that he was alone in the office for the time being, and grabbed the first aid kid from the bottom drawer of the front desk. He grabbed a roll of gauze and a healing salve specifically for wing care before he made his way back to the couch.

There had been no movement or stirring from the fairy, but the wing definitely did not look any better up close. Marco delicately placed his hand under the wing with the clipped tip. It looked like a mild injury, one he had seen on other fairies, so a few smears of the salve should be all the help it needed. He was thankful that his biochem degree required some medicine studies. He opened the jar of salve, dipped his fingers in the mint green lotion, and carefully dabbed at the tip. The body stirred, the wings flapping lightly together at the motion, but the fairy stayed still otherwise.

Marco waited for the wings to still again, and for a reaction that never came, before he resumed his work. Only a few dabs on the end and he was done; the natural healing power of a fairy’s wings would do the rest with no problem. The ripped wing would be a little more complicated; by the looks of it, it needed a few smears of the salve on the insides to seal them together, and then a protective seal with the gauze. It was going to be difficult to do. But Marco never got a chance to work with it: as soon as his hand, his clean one hovering underneath the tear, started to press the salve on, the wings flapped and the fairy sat up, sending Marco on his rump in the process.

Wide amber eyes gazed at him underneath moppy blond hair, bitter and dangerous like a cornered animal. He flapped his wings, but the tear made him fall back on the couch and yelp in pain. It did nothing to stop his territorial stance, as he hopped onto his haunches and glared at the boy in front of him.

“Who are you?” He demanded, voice scratchy and rumbling. His accent, though smooth to his biting tone, was not local.

Marco sat up, wiping his hand on his jeans, and scooted back to give the fairy some space. “I’m Marco,” he said. “You fell on me and got knocked out, I think.” He ignored the way the boy brushed the back of his head and winced. “Your wings are sort of ripped, too, so I thought I’d try and help.”

The fairy glanced over him critically, maybe trying to figure out what he was, before he made eye contact again. For someone with bowed wings and a less than presentable appearance, he was doing his damnedest to come off as intimidating. “Where’s here?”

“University of Trost.” A few specks of sparkling dust fell on the couch, a sign that the wound on his wing was starting to react to its limited care. Fairy Dust was a popular solvent, whether it was used in medicine or fairy recipes, only obtainable with their utmost trust and permission. Most commonly, it was the very material that shaped the telltale wings, and the fact that it was falling down on the cushions like a fresh snowfall was bad news. “Your, um, wings are—”

“Did you find my friends?”

“Friends?” He had looked in the sky after the fairy had landed on him, in case a threat or friend was looking above for him. There was no sign of anyone flying around. “I’m sorry. You were alone when you fell.”

The fairy rolled his eyes with a frustrated huff and plopped down on the couch. “Load of help you are.” He rotated in his spot and jutted his wings out, just enough for easy access without causing ripples of pain. “Just finish what you were doing so I can go. I’m needed elsewhere.”

Marco brushed off the dust that wandered onto his clothes, and he frowned at the wings shoved in his face. “Can I get your name, at least?”

“Eugh, seriously?” His head turned to glower at him. It almost felt like a parent’s scolding for doing something out of line. “What else do you want, my email and home address so you can scam me?”

Frowning, Marco gripped the edge of the torn wing and placed salve along the slice. His patience was running thin with the bristly fairy, something that had never happened with a supernatural creature before. “I’m trying to be polite. Your wings need serious help, and I’m the only one who can do anything about it.”

The tensed body, and the sharp intake of breath every time he placed the salve on the translucent material, made guilt well in his chest, but that feeling would do him no good. After all, the fairy was only here and getting help because of him. The fairy sat in silence and allowed him to dabble on the tear and seal it as best he could. Once it was lined up and neatly closed, he wrapped the rip in gauze twice and clamped the end down.

“Jean.”

“Hm?”

The fairy turned around, eyeing the handiwork over his shoulder, as a light flush clamored over his cheeks. “My name. You asked what it was. It’s Jean.”

“Jean.” The native French sounds trilled across his tongue. He liked the way it sounded. “Like Jean Valjean?”

Jean shrugged. He leaned against the armrest and toyed with a greasy strand of hair. His wings sat slack against his back. “I guess. I just like how it sounded. Fairies don’t really have parents, like humans do.”

The origins of fairies was a strange one: several tales of nymphs and forest magic helping out were just rumors, but the science and history behind it were still being worked out. “I know. I’ve met a few fairies before.” Marco smiled as the mention reminded him of the long-term goal he was determined to accomplish. “I want to start a safe haven for them and other supernatural beings, so that no one gets kicked out of a place they call home.”

“Home? The house of my eternity?” Jean rolled his eyes. He was slumping further into his hand the more he spoke. “Home is just a dumb concept you tell kids to make them feel less lonely. It doesn’t exist.”

Marco wanted to disagree, and he probably would have if Jean hadn’t yawned and started to lay down as best he could. But there was more to the story than he knew. Whatever Jean felt that inspired that line of thought, so sure of itself and convinced of its underlying message, was personal and negative. It was best to leave it alone and not bring it up.

“Do you want a blanket?” He asked the fairy. His eyes were already drooping, still exhausted from whatever events had transpired before they had met. Jean shook his head. “Well, I have class in about two hours, so I can wake you up then. The salve will have healed your wings enough to let you fly, but you’ll probably need to keep the gauze on for a while.”

Jean mumbled something at him, but he was already drifting off and his words were intelligible. A few minutes later, he was softly snoring, and Marco let out a long sigh of relief. At that moment, he was sure that he would see the last of the fairy. Two hours later, he walked Jean outside and watched him fly off without as much of a thank you or farewell. In the long run, unbeknownst to him at the time, it mattered little, since their paths would cross again two weeks later.

 

* * *

 

Marco was focused on organizing a project with his activist group, texting as fast as he could to the exec board, when a flapping of wings erupted behind him and a bony elbow dug into his side. He nearly dropped his phone at the motion, and again when he recognized the fairy. He hadn’t heard from Jean or seen him since they had crashed into each other—well, since the fairy had fallen on him, but it wasn’t very fair to put the blame on him, was it?

“Jean, hi,” he greeted with a smile that might have been a tad forced. The stress of classes leaked out of him with every passing year, and finals was approaching faster than he would have liked. “How are your wings?”

“Fine,” Jean said, giving the healed (and rather beautiful) appendages a good flap before they folded and disappeared casually into his back. “They heal quickly anyway, but the salve helped, I guess.”

It didn’t sound at all like a thanks, but there was a brief flash of gratitude on his face—for a second—and then it was gone. It must have been a one-time thing, for Marco’s eyes only. “Oh, good! You can find travel-sized bottles of the salve in a supernatural market. They really help out.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” Although they were surrounded by students walking to and from class, Jean looked at every person like they would attack him. He was paranoid about something—or someone. “But I wanted to ask you something else.”

“Sure, what do you need?” A sudden thought struck Marco, a fact that he hadn’t considered much until then. “Did you ever find your friends?”

Jean winced at the mention; they were probably still missing. How he had gotten hurt, and where he had been going, was still unknown, but the thought still concerned Marco.

“I need a safe place,” Jean admitted. The tone of his voice suggested that his request was harder to make than he was letting on, and worth ignoring the question posed to him. “It’s a long story that I can’t tell—not here, at least—and I just…” He sighed, his eyes shutting as he whispered, “I’m not from around here. And I have nowhere else to go.”

“You can stay with me.” The words were out before he could even consider them. His apartment was somewhat large, but with three residents, it could have used a bigger space. And while his roommates had no problem with supernatural beings—both Sasha and Ymir had grown up in neighborhoods heavily populated with them, and Ymir was constantly chasing after a pretty vampire girl—it could still pose a problem if he suddenly brought a random fairy home with no explanation. But there was no such thing as a sanctuary for supernaturals; they had little services offered to them as it were. This was just the first of many steps.

Jean’s eyes lit up at the offer, but the insecure feeling and near-exposure of deep emotions was replaced with a clearing of his throat. He resorted to a rather usual, scowling look. “Okay, but it’s only to sleep. And until I find my people. And you can’t get mad when I’m gone all day or only show up to sleep. I’m not your guinea pig.”

Marco giggled at the accusation, despite the questions that rose, which only seemed to irritate Jean further. “I usually use rats, but a rodent is a rodent.” He broke into more peals of laughter at the look of shock on the fairy’s face. “I was kidding! Jean, it was a joke!”

“I know!” He most definitely did not, but the embarrassment was probably forbidden from showing. “I was just stunned by your shitty excuse for a joke.” A smirk grew on his face, and he sneered out the next statement with a teasing lilt to his voice. “You should leave the tricks up to the fairies, anyway, spots.”

The nickname didn’t faze him as much as the  _ It’s on _ stare that burned into him. For a brief moment, Marco had forgotten that fairies could be as mischievous as they could be helpful, sometimes more than the other. More often than not, though, they caused mayhem wherever they went. Knowing his luck, Marco had just found one of his own.

He didn’t quite need the validation for it, though, when he rolled his eyes, took a step forward, and fell promptly on his face, his shoes tied together. As if Jean’s cackling behind him wasn’t enough to confirm that he had landed himself with a trickster.

 

* * *

 

Getting to know Jean, Marco believed, was like trying to touch a porcupine. No matter what direction he tried to reach, there was always something prickly in the way. There was one spot that was without protection, but the area was so heavily guarded that it was impossible to get to. And yet every night, right before bed, Jean tapped on his window and slid into the room. He never provided an explanation, and most nights he was too tired to talk.

“You should probably clean yourself up,” Marco pointed out to him one night, voice slightly muffled behind his hand to keep the stench away. He had done it instinctively, and Jean had raised an eyebrow at him.

The pink fairy wings flapped in defiance, one of many ways Jean showed his displeasure. “It’s a defense mechanism, Mister I-Know-More-About-Supernatural-Creatures-Than-You-Do.” The fairy hopped onto a hammock set up for him on the other side of the room and kicked his shoes off.

Marco had read plenty about defense mechanisms used by fairies and trolls, but a majority of them were artificial. “Whoever told you that never bathing or getting a haircut is a defense mechanism needs to sort out their priorities.” In the entire month he had known the fairy, not once had he cleaned. And with the frequency that they saw each other, it was a problem.

Jean yawned and turned to his side. “Thanks, Mom. I didn’t ask.”

Silence reigned over the room as Marco finished up the last of his school work and Jean snoozed in his hammock. It seemed uncharacteristically quiet, and for a moment it was peaceful. But he should have known it was too good to be true, and he should have been more careful instead of laying down so casually. It would have made jumping to the sound of an elephant under his pillow much less painful.

Marco shot a glare to the hammock that was now quivering with withheld laughter. There was no elephant in his bed or anywhere near—just a small plush look-alike, momentarily enchanted with magic. At least it was better than the hair dye fiasco.

The next night, Sasha and Connie were in his room as his study partners for an upcoming test. Marco had kept the window open, per Jean’s request, and as soon as the fairy zoomed in and landed, the two were reacting.

“Jeez, fairy boy!” Sasha exclaimed, covering her nose. “When did you die?!”

Jean glared at her. The bags under his eyes told of limited sleep, but at least he was unharmed. “You couldn’t live anywhere else?” He sneered.

“Dude, if Sasha says you stink, you have a problem,” Connie pointed out. He was just as uncomfortable with the smell, as seen by his sweater collar covering his face, but he was a touch more helpful with his criticism. “Can’t you go through a fresh spring or something?”

“You know, you don’t have to be here,  _ dude _ .” Jean clamored onto his hammock as usual: every night, he returned to the same place. And in the morning, just like every morning, he would be gone.

“Neither do you,” Sasha grumbled. Marco kicked her to be quiet.

“I’m being for real,” Connie assured him. “My mom’s a doctor for supernaturals. I can’t tell you how many times a fairy has told her about how bad it is for your bodies to do that. The only one who’s able to handle it is Puck, and that’s a genetic thing.”

At the mention of the infamous fairy, Jean halted in his struggle to get comfortable, his face pale. The tale of Puck was known by nearly anyone, whether they were familiar with supernatural lore or not: he was a fairy who inspired  _ A Midsummer Night’s Dream _ after an encounter with its author. Puck gained the attention of England, and the following years were spent meddling in the lives of their monarchs. On his deathbed, he removed a piece of his wing, buried it, and asked a wizard to enchant it so that the name “Puck” could still live on, even if he physically couldn’t.

From his dying breath emerged a new Puck from the torn wing, and he eventually gained the attention of the world. Historians have tried to locate a Puck’s whereabouts for years, whether he was freeing Napoleon from the island of Elba or fueling the space race that sent the two superpowers beyond the planet’s surface. The number of Pucks varied throughout studies, but one thing was certain: when one passed on, they buried a piece of their wing and had it enchanted to carry on the legacy of the name. Jean—not just as a fairy, but as a living being—knew who he was.

But there had to be more to the story. Sasha and Connie quickly turned back to studying, and Jean kept his back to them for the entire time they were in his room. Only after Marco said his goodnights and got ready for bed did he address the behavior.

“Hey, Jean,” he began, “what do you know about Puck?”

No answer, no movement. Barely even a breath. Uneasy fear coiled in the pit of his stomach.

“I only know the legends, but I’ve never heard the story from a fa—” He didn’t finish, for Jean hopped out of the hammock and opened the window. “Jean?” His wings expanded behind him, and he flew off into the night without a word. “Jean!”

If Marco knew where he was going, he would have gone after him. But until that miracle occurred, he could only wait for him to return. He was a sitting duck, and it bothered him—he had always wished to be active, doing something or moving in some way to keep himself occupied. This time, he had to deal with it and wait—and after something he did, too. Even if Jean’s exact reason for leaving wasn’t clear, it was obviously related to Puck. Not everyone loved him, sure, but was he that adamantly against him? After the stunts that he himself pulled on Marco?

To his surprise, it only took three days for Jean to reappear. Marco, finishing up with the activist group he was part of, only noticed him until only a few people were left. He was sitting at the back of the room, toying with a plastic bag on the desk. Marco bid farewell to his friends and walked up the few steps to the fairy. Jean looked up at him but stayed silent. Not surprising.

“How was your day?” Marco asked, sitting down in the row in front of him.

Jean’s head shot up, a mixture of disgust and bewilderment on his face. “You haven’t seen me since the weekend, and you don’t even want to know where I was?”

“Are you going to tell me?”

Silence. Marco smirked in triumph; that’s what he thought. It was easy to talk to Jean once he knew what to ask. If there was even a slight chance that he wouldn’t receive an answer for his inquiry, then he didn’t bring it up.

“It’s not my business to know where you go or what you do. Isn’t that what you always tell me?”

Jean frowned and sank low in his seat. “I was just being facetious.”

“Then why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Because, I—” He stopped himself, and whatever he was about to say died on his lips. He sighed and bowed his head. “I don’t trust people anymore. I’ve been through a ton of shit and I haven’t worked through it.” He ended his confession with a glower through messy blond bangs. “Are you happy? I’m opening up to you.”

Marco smiled warmly, and the hostility melted from Jean’s features. He would say that he made the fairy feel safe, but that was a step they hadn’t yet traveled in. Sleeping in the same room and providing a safe space didn’t quite bring them to a friend status. They would have to get to know each other first.

And that’s how Marco landed himself, fully clothed, in the bathtub later that night, sputtering and wet.

He wiped the water and his plastered bangs from his eyes as Jean, snickering, placed a small gathering of bubbles on his head. The bath was something the fairy had insisted on having, to represent the new point of their relationship. Marco didn’t mind, but he was thankful that demands of his presence in the tub came after the first four baths. Both of them had learned very quickly that one bath did not suffice for years of grime and dirt. Between the second and third, Sasha had to make a sudden run to the store for more supplies.

“If I had known better,” Marco sighed, “I would have thought you were ten and not twenty.” He took off his shirt and jeans, too wet and uncomfortable to wear, leaving him in his boxers. He tried to ignore how quick the fairy’s eyes darted to his chest and how fast the red spread from his cheeks to his ears, but he just couldn’t.

“Technically, I’m forty,” Jean corrected. He added more suds to the top of Marco’s head. “Fairies don’t age the same way, remember?”

“We age exactly the same, but we count it differently.” He tried to glance up at his head. “What are you doing?”

“Devil horns. Or a halo. You’re a dick, but you also can do no wrong.”

“ _ I’m _ the dick?” He couldn’t help but laugh. “That’s a good one, Jean.”

Jean snorted at him. He decided to keep his hair long, for some type of familiarity, and the damp blond against his skin looked attractive. Marco could see his eyes better—still a sharp amber, equally as striking—and could even see that his ears were pointy. There was a birthmark on his left shoulder that looked like a leaf. If they were more intimate partners, he would run his thumb along it, similar to how Jean was dragging his hands through his hair.

Wait.

Marco glanced up at him, and the hand disappeared. Jean sulked back to his side of the tub and cleared his throat. His face was lit up with a blush. “Um. So, you wanna know about Puck, right?”

“If you want to tell me,” he offered softly. The air between them was fragile, both from the previous moment and the upcoming topic.

“I’m never gonna  _ want _ to tell you. But I should.”

“If you’re sure.”

Jean brought his legs to his chest and sighed. He didn’t speak right away, but Marco felt like he could see the words swimming in his eyes. The tale was going to be sad, and its outcome would vary, but he was being entrusted with a vulnerable state of mind, and he pledged to himself that he would do anything to protect it.

“A fairy’s equivalent to a family would be a pack,” Jean began, “but it’s a lot smaller and not as, um…life-threatening, I guess? You can live on your own and still be okay. But the pack dynamic has sorta changed because of all the bigoted assholes who shun us. It’s gotten bigger and a little more exclusive.”

“I read about that,” Marco said. He only spoke up to show his investment and involvement in the conversation. “I took cultural anthropology as an elective last semester, and one of the things we studied was how the fairy pack has evolved. It sounded really cutthroat.”

The fairy scoffed in amusement. “Good to see you’re getting a valid education. Unless you have some sort of connection, you can’t get into an established pack. You either make your own or cross your fingers and hope you’re not poached.”

“Did you have a pack?”

“We called it a pack, but any other fairy would tell you it wasn’t. My friend Mikasa and I looked after a group of nymphs that lost their homes to deforestation. They tend to be more passive than they are aggressive, but they’ll defend their land if it’s attacked. We volunteered to help them without asking for anything in return.”

Marco tilted his head. He noticed how Jean faltered slightly, but he pushed it off as a reaction to the interruption. “So Puck wasn’t in your pack?”

“He never wanted to be in one, even though anyone would have him. He liked being alone. I met him when I was helping some naiads clean out their ponds.” A faint smile jumped up on his features, but it scarcely lasted. “He was just as I imagined: mischievous, charming, and he was only malicious if you provoked him. His pranks were only meant to lighten the mood, but he could be a dick to anyone who deserved it. He said he was just passing through, but the naiads offered food and shelter whenever he needed, so he stayed and helped us protect the other nymphs.”

“Wow.” The thought of Jean getting to be around one of the most famous supernatural beings in history was amazing. He wondered if any historians or anthropologists, in studying Puck, took notice of his friend. “Pretty selfless for a Puck.”

Jean shrugged; “Mikasa thought so too, but I didn’t think anything of it. Everyone knows the story about Puck and who he is, so they automatically assume things about him that aren’t necessarily true. It never seemed right to me, so I didn’t do it.”

The description reminded Marco of the fairy across from him. But he didn’t voice that thought out loud. “How long was he around?”

“Well, he wasn’t with our pack, so his independence was still there, and he came and went as he pleased, but he always came back to us. He did it for the nymphs, and eventually Mikasa and I were included in that package. He…” This was the most difficult part for him to say, as told by the tightness in his voice and the clenching of his hands against his knees. “He was our friend. It was like we were his home.”

“Until he wasn’t?”

Jean sighed, head bowed and eyes swimming with sadness. “According to him, the repeated genetics of the original Puck wore them down so that they don’t live as long as they used to. It’s one of the reasons why we don’t reproduce: eventually, we would all die out. Puck was with us for six years, and then he did his whole ritual and died. But…”

“But?”

“I could have been Puck.” The anger was evident in his tone. His eyes shot up to look at Marco, but the licks of fury were not for him. “He always said that I would have been a great contender! I would go on journeys with him for fun, a-and people mistook me for him. When he wasn’t around, the nymphs would call me Robin Goodfellow. And maybe, if he had broken the tradition and named me the heir to the Puck title, he would have lived a bit longer.” As quickly as it had come, the anger disappeared, replaced with a sorrow that draped itself over his shoulders and nearly turned in on himself. “But he didn’t.”

“What about his successor?” It had scarcely been mentioned until now. Surely there was something about the latest Puck, after he was so close to the protector of the nymphs.

Jean scoffed. He turned his head to glare at the wall. The mention sent him into a new, albeit irritated, tirade. “Mikasa wanted to take care of him. I didn’t. I felt like I had been used by Puck. He never cared about me. All he needed was someone to pull pranks with, and I was the closest willing thing. Mikasa could have joined us, but she didn’t want to leave the nymphs behind. So  _ I _ went.  _ I  _ got close to him, while he did what Pucks do best, and he never thought about me.”

“But he stayed for the nymphs.” Marco offered a smile, as if it would do any good. “That has to count for something, right?”

The fairy wasn’t buying it and scowled at him. “I’m not a nymph. And sure, it was a nice gesture, whatever. But what about  _ me _ ? What has he done for me?”

“He made all those nice memories. And he could have moved away when he was dying, but he stayed with you so you could spend time with his successor. Maybe his memory of you would be vague, because they don’t transfer over well, but—”

“Puck kicked me out.”

“Wh…what?”

“Eugh. Are you even listening?” Jean slinked against the tub, his head banging against the wall. “When he was ten—five in human years—he kicked me out of the pack. He said I had never contributed to the pack or helped the nymphs, and that if I wasn’t going to, I had to leave. I refused to listen to him. So he ran me out of the forest.”

“Wow.” Marco wasn’t sure what to make of it. In the studies he had read, packs were as strong as family bonds. For one to fall apart was a real travesty. “There had to be backlash, right? I mean, Mikasa couldn’t just let it happen.”

A small smirk quirked up on his lips. “If you knew Mikasa, you wouldn’t suggest that. The pack was more important to her than anything. She protected the nymphs with her life. Sometimes, it nearly killed her. After Puck kicked me out, Mikasa and two of the nymphs looked for me. They didn’t want to leave me on my own, so they left in solidarity with me. But Puck wasn’t happy with that, so once again, he ran me out. I fought back, we chased each other around for a bit, and then I landed on you.”

The thought of Jean getting beaten up by a five-year-old fairy would have been amusing in any other moment. Maybe he laughs at it now. But in that moment, it was the worst thing Marco had ever heard. “And you don’t know where they are.”

“They followed after us, but I think he scared them off. I went back to the spot I saw them last, and I looked for days. But I couldn’t find them. I don’t know where they are or what’s happened to them. I’ve asked around on every network I can access and I’ve spread the word so many times. But Puck’s revered by so many people, it’s practically useless.”

“Maybe I could help. I know some mages-in-training who wouldn’t have a problem with helping out.”

Jean rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I’m sure you do.”

“I’m serious. One of them would do anything to help supernaturals out, and if he wants to, the other two will do it.”

For a brief second, hope flashed in his eyes, but it was drowned by false disinterest and a distraction of the bubbles around him. “Sure they will.”

The boy just needed a little help. He had seen so little of it in the past few years that he had lost all sense of hope. Marco’s heart panged with sadness at the thought of Jean being alone. If he hadn’t been in the right place at the right time, who knows what could have happened? Marco wanted to help Jean. Their paths crossed for a reason; maybe they needed each other. One needed a home; the other needed…well, what could he need from someone like Jean?

 

* * *

 

A year later, after the winter holiday, Marco walked into his apartment and promptly walked into a sticky residue. Before he could react, a collection of feathers was slung into his face and onto his body. Thankfully, it didn’t get onto his bags. But there was a load of it in his hair and, somehow, under his jacket.

“Welcome back.”

Marco shut the door behind him and glowered at the fairy. Jean was sprawled on the couch and watching a crime show. Since they had first met fifteen months ago, their relationship had evolved into a friendly one. They met up after classes and during office hours, and Jean helped out at the activist group when community-wide events were taking place. They even transformed Jean’s side of the room to something more to his tastes. They were roommates and friends, best friends even, and Marco was enjoying every bit of it.

Jean noticed how he was picking off the feathers and chuckled quietly. “Don’t worry, it’ll come off when you wash it.”

“I’ll have to do it in the tub,” Marco sighed. He went to his room to change his clothes—thankfully, there was nothing out of place in there—and took a quick shower before he came back out. He picked up Jean’s feet and sat down before draping his legs across his lap. They invaded each other’s space so casually now, there was barely a flinch at the intimate contact. “Is your cold gone?”

“Sorta.” Jean sniffled at the mention, running a hand through his hair. The blond locks had been cut many times, in various styles, to see what he liked. By the looks of it, the undercut was growing on him. “My throat feels better, but I’m still sneezing out gunk.”

“How pretty.” Jean kicked his thigh, and Marco laughed. “My mom sends her love and rum cake.”

“Hell yeah.” On the television, one of the detectives made a funny quip about a conspiracy, and Jean snorted. “How was the Miguel-Michelle showdown?”

“Mich pushed him into the tree, but it didn’t fall down. And Miguel flung mashed potatoes at her during dinner. So overall, not too bad.” He reached for Jean’s Diet Coke and took a sip despite the sputtered protests. “You should have seen them at Easter three years ago. She pulled out his hair, and he bit her arm so hard he bruised it.”

“Damn. Thank gods I don’t deal with their shit.”

Marco knew what he was referencing immediately and frowned. “No word from them yet, huh?”

Jean shook his head, but then shrugged. “I’m hopeful, but I know how hard the work is. I’m not upset about it.” After their night in the bathtub, Marco had brought Jean’s problem to the attention of Bertholdt and his “crew”: Reiner and Annie, the personifications of a labrador retriever and a husky respectively. All three were mages-in-training raised in a tight-knit group of wizards, and they knew enough advanced magic to trace the whereabouts of Mikasa and the nymphs. As soon as they had met Jean, they were offering their services. Surprisingly, Annie was the first to volunteer—it might have been the prickly personalities, though Marco wasn’t quite sure. So far, since they started, there had been no word.

“Well, that’s a good thing. They really  are doing their best.”

“I know. I’m glad I got you, though.” Marco simpered quietly at the comment, and Jean looked up at him. “I’m serious. Well, kinda, the cold might be talking. But still. You’ve done a lot for me, Marco. I really appreciate it.”

The words were probably fueled by the medication Marco had brewed for him—no one with that sharp of a personality talked so sincerely and openly without a little help. “How much sleep did you get last night?”

“None of your business. Be fucking thankful that I’m being so nice right now.”

“Oh yeah, you’re charming alright.” Marco handed him a tissue. “You look snotty.”

Jean blew his nose and tossed the tissue over his shoulder. He crawled over so that his body was lined up with Marco’s, and he snuggled against his chest. Marco hoped to whatever deity was listening that he couldn’t hear the ramming of his heart against his ribcage or the nervous gulp. “Whatever. You won’t ever be sick with this.”

Maybe not—it was a supernatural type of cold, after all—but Marco was focused on anything but that, his head swimming and his chest tight. It was bad enough his family, over Christmas dessert and red wine, teased him about possible feelings for the fairy—which were definitely there. He had denied it for months before a night of laughter and trying to out-prank each other forced him to accept that he had caught feelings. It was probably not a good idea, since Jean’s fate was questionable once he found his friends. And fairies might see sexuality more fluid than humans did, but how would Jean feel about a human?

The episode ended in a surprised twist, Jean fell asleep on him, and Marco delved deeper into his affections. He leaned against the cushions and let himself indulge, just for a moment, in the close contact.

It was a year and a half later, and two weeks after falling asleep on the couch, when Annie made a discovery. Jean was gone for two days, and Marco barely saw him and the mages. His senior year of college and the possibility of grad school were enough to keep him occupied, but not for long. Thankfully, on the third day, Jean barged into the apartment, scaring Ymir and Sasha in the process. Marco, working on a project for class, could hear the rushed talk from his bedroom.

“Just because you’re rooming with Marco doesn’t mean you can just barge in unannounced like that!”

“Just tell me if he’s here or not! You’re wasting my time!”

“I’m in here,” Marco called out with a sigh. He had barely finished talking when the fairy zipped into his room via wings and nearly crashed into him. “Did you find something?”

“Armin,” Jean breathed out. It might have been vague, but Marco knew it answered his question. The mages had located his missing friends. “Are you busy?”

“Sorta, yeah.” Once again, Jean moved before he could respond fully and grabbed his arm. Marco started to ask what he was doing before he opened the window, stretched out his wings, and scooped the human up in his arms. The question turned into a surprised yelp, and then a shout; “Where are we going?!”

“No time to talk.” Jean’s hand shifted under his knee in a squeeze as his other pulled him closer. The rapid beating of fairy wings and rushing air nearly drowned out his quick speech.

Marco huffed and crossed his hands behind Jean’s neck to keep himself balanced. “You have time to sweep me off my feet but none to talk to me?”

“Yep.” He glanced down at the freckled human, and Marco had to stop himself from gasping at the vividness of his eyes. If they were beautiful before, they were breathtaking now. It was one of the most genuine reactions he had seen from the fairy. “I don’t want it to be a dream.”

In Jean’s place, he would have felt the same. To be separated from a pack for so long and then finding them after months of dedication and outside help, it was something that required confirmation. Marco silenced his protest and revelled in the closeness, worried that it could slip away at any moment.

They landed on the balcony to their apartment, where Reiner and Bertholdt were standing outside the door. A glass of champagne was in their hands, and they offered some to Jean and Marco once they were both on steady feet.

“I thought it would take us longer than this,” Reiner admitted, “but I always knew we were gonna do it.”

“Are they still there?” Jean asked. He barely noticed the glass flute in his hand.

“If they aren’t, Annie wouldn’t be as good as she is,” Bertholdt pointed out with a smile. Jean rushed past him, looking back once for Marco to follow, before he disappeared inside. Reiner shut the door—and, by the looks of it, blocked the exit.

“How did you do it?” Marco wondered.

“Water communication,” the blond replied. “It’s sorta like telepathy for nymphs. When they’re bound to a specific element, they can use it to send messages through portals. We tried earth and wind, but earth isn’t the best for sending long messages, and wind was too unpredictable. So Annie learned how to do water.”

“It’s not that far from ice, so it was easy for her to learn,” added Bertholdt. He took a shy sip of champagne before continuing. “But there are no telepathic ways to send messages through ice, so it took a little longer than she would have liked.”

“But you found them,” Marco confirmed. It still sounded surreal to his ears. The realization hadn’t hit him yet. “It’s them?”

“Apparently, Armin—Jean’s naiad friend—has been trying to find him for a while now, so all it took was tracing the source material and confirming it was them.”

“Wow.” Generally, he was glad that Jean had found his friends. Selfishly, he was upset that he had found them so soon. After spending so much time around one another, he was unsure of what would happen if they took him away. But he silenced those thoughts—and kicked himself mentally for conjuring them up—and smiled. “You guys are amazing.”

Reiner grinned and shrugged. “Hey, what can you do? When you’re this awesome, you can do whatever you want.” A sharp, and higher, elbow nudged him harshly. “Ow, come on!”

“We didn’t mind doing it at all,” Bertholdt said with a more humble smile. “And Jean was really nice to work with.”

Marco barked at that and hid his amused smirk behind the flute. “I think you were working with a shapeshifter.”

“Well, he was grouchy at first,” Reiner said, still rubbing his sore side. “He was kinda standoffish and didn’t really want to talk to us, and he was only interested in where his friends were and what you were doing—”

“He did get better,” Bert insisted. Reiner nodded with an agreed hum. “After a while, he started to relax around us.”

“Yeah, have you seen the pranks he can pull off? I’m telling you, Coco, I’ve never seen a fairy that can do so much in such a short amount of time, all for a few giggles.”

Marco felt queasy. They were all things he had noticed in Jean as well, yes, but he had turned it into something beyond friendship, something with affection and longing. He liked to think that he had helped make Jean a bit more bearable to be around. Once he accepted that it would take time to see his pack again, he accepted his surroundings. And maybe, sometimes, there was some soft flirting, initiated and reciprocated, that only beat more around the bush. But Marco was afraid of starting something that might not last long, and he feared the thought of losing Jean, whether from his pack or one-sided feelings. What a sad coward he was.

Behind Reiner came a sliding  _ whoosh _ , a grunt, and a mumbled “Jeez, you fucking tree trunk, get outta the way,” and Jean pushed between the two mages to look at him. The look in his eyes from before was still there, if dimmed down a bit. “What the hell’s taking you so long?! Everyone wants to meet you.”

That sounded near impossible for the moment, and he didn’t like the thought that he might actually have to meet them someday soon, but Marco followed Jean to the living room. Annie sat on the sofa, champagne flute abandoned beside her, and held in her hands a dry sheet of paper wisping off different types of magic ruins. Some words were recognizable, but they were jumbled for the most part; he wasn’t very proficient in this realm of magic.

Jean pulled him down beside Annie and gazed into the dark green cauldron on the coffee table. Water ringlets spread out from the center and were recorded, in ruins, on the paper. “We’re only able to talk to Armin right now, but all three of them are there,” he said. Marco admired how elated he looked, eyes glowing and thin lips unable to stop beaming. “They’ve been searching for months, Marco. Just as long as I have.”

“They want to know more about him,” the girl announced. The water was still for the moment.

“Tell them he’s here. And all that other stuff I said before.” Annie rolled her eyes at the demand, but she raised her hand, wand in her grasp, and shut her eyes. The magic dripped from her wand and into the cauldron. Jean gripped his hand on instinct; Marco weaved their fingers together.

“What else did you say?” He whispered to the fairy. Jean blushed, though he acted as if he hadn’t heard. He would have to ask later.

A few seconds later, Annie opened her eyes. She shifted the paper slightly and crossed her arms. Jean glared at the cauldron. “Can’t you make it go faster?”

“It takes a minute,” she scolded.

The fairy sighed in exasperation. “I don’t have time for a minute.” He leaned against the couch, his hand still tangled with Marco’s. The slight delay, however, did nothing to damper his mood. As quickly as he had slumped down, his smile returned and he squeezed his hand. “You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

Marco pushed the bitter thought away with a smile and a squeeze of his own. “I’m so happy for you, Jean. I really am.” There was nothing sweeter to him than seeing Jean happy.

 

* * *

 

The date was scheduled: in four days, Mikasa would bring the nymphs—Eren and Armin—to see Jean. The way Annie had phrased it made it sound like they were coming to take the fairy with them and leave, reunited and a completed pack once more. But on the days leading up to it, Jean gushed like it was a visit, listing off where he would take them and how much fun they would have. Either side could happen, and it made him feel sick.

Marco debated on making an excuse—grad applications, school works, his thesis—and even mulled over bailing at the last second. But that could make the whole situation bad and portray Jean’s whole situation poorly: the person who had sheltered him for a year and a half wasn’t able to stop by and say hello. So he went to the airfield and waited on the platform with his friend.

Jean’s behavior helped him gauge when his pack would arrive. Each passerby was critically side-eyed, and every flap in the sky was given a quick flick of the head and a wide-eyed, hopeful stare. Marco knew he was nervous, told by the wringing of his hand and the tapping of his foot. At one point, he started to pace, and at another, he chewed his nails. They stayed in silence, but Marco smiled at him when they made eye contact and held his hand when he was close enough. They didn’t speak until a distinctively fairy-like creature passed overhead, arms holding two figures. The form turned gracefully and landed in the designated spot, released the two others, and looked towards them.

“Oh my gods,” Jean whispered. He began to walk towards them with hurried steps, and Marco followed after him.

As they got closer, he could make out the physical distinctions between the trio: the two nymphs were distinct, one a common forest nymph and the other a naiad of fresh water. Armin, as he recalled, was the naiad, with flowy blond hair that brushed his shoulders and pretty blue eyes to match the water. He had a calm air about him, visually seen in his stance and the depths of his eyes. Eren, therefore, was the other nymph: his eyes were the vibrant green viewed in a lush forest, and his energy was much more extroverted.

“Your haircut looks stupid,” Eren said once they were within range. Despite his words, he embraced Jean in a tight hug that could only come from being separated for so long. Marco had heard the stories of their relationship, how an outsider would consider it hateful, but pranks and taunts were their ways for showing affection to each other.

“Shut up,” Jean mumbled into his shoulder. When they pulled away, there were tears brimming in his eyes, unreleased save for a single track.

“Let’s try not to fight right away, yeah?” Armin said. His voice was as smooth as a river and soft as its bed, just as Jean had assured. Eren stepped aside so that the naiad could step forward and hug him. It was a touch more emotional for them, a bit more personal, almost invasive. Though, in Marco’s opinion, nothing rivaled Mikasa.

She was beautiful at first glance; though all fairies had the ability to enchant others regardless of the status of their physical beauty, hers was natural. Long dark hair, clear skin, pink lips reminiscent of a rosebud. She looked serious, though her expression softened at the reunions taking place. Marco had caught a glimpse of her wings before they disappeared into her back: a mint green, complementary to Jean’s pink. She waited patiently in the background, though Armin was kind enough to step aside and let them make eye contact.

As soon as there was room to move, Jean stepped forward. He stopped in front of her, doubting that this was real and sliding back. Mikasa moved before he step too far away, and their arms wrapped around each other. Together, they complimented each other nicely. Marco wondered, definitely jealous and bordering on bitter, if they had feelings for one another. In different times, they might have been partners.

“You don’t understand how long I’ve been looking for you,” Mikasa said. Even her voice was pretty, a melodic tone that was sure of itself. “I thought we’d never find you.”

“I know,” Jean sighed. His eyes shut, and a look of contentment came over his features. “I was almost out of options.” He moved back, though stayed within arm’s length, and looked at her with concern. “Where’s Puck?”

“He got bored and left. He’s not like the one we knew.”

“What about the nymphs?”

“They’re safe, don’t worry,” Eren assured him. “We got a sphinx to watch over them.”

“Jeez.” Jean scoffed and looked at them. “I thought they were wary of anything that walked on two legs.”

“They made an exception,” Mikasa stated. “According to them, the nymphs only use it for convenience and are part of nature, so they don’t count.”

“And you did it for me.”

She gave Jean a small smile, itching at the edges of her lips. “Why wouldn’t we?”

Marco was tempted to make his presence known after being forgotten, but Jean turned towards him and dashed back over to his side. The way he locked their arms, as if he was courting him, shouldn’t have twisted his heart. “This is Marco. He took me in after I was…” Even to that day, he didn’t like mentioning what had happened—and from the looks of their faces, neither did his pack.

“He fell on top of me,” he said with an amused smile. “So I really couldn’t turn him down.” Armin laughed quietly, but Mikasa and Eren were skeptical. Marco knew it before words could be shared. He kept going anyway. “But I was more than willing to help him out, especially once I saw his wings. I’m a biochem major, so—”

“You knew how to take care of him?” Mikasa wondered.

“Well, yes. I know more now than I did last year, but it worked out fine. After that, I did it out of want.” He looked at Jean when he said that, smiling at him and hoping that his emotions were conveyed in a way other than words. The fairy shared the same happiness at calling them friends, that much was clear, but it was hard to see if there was anything more profound.

Mikasa tilted her head, but her lips flicked up in a wispy motion. “I’m glad you found each other. Thank you for helping him.”

“Honestly, it was no trouble. I’m fully dedicated to helping supernaturals in whatever way I can.”

“He wants to make a sanctuary for us,” Jean piped in. His eyes lit up as easily as he would for his own passion. “So that no one else has to go through what we did.”

“That would be really helpful,” Armin quipped.

“I need all the help I can get,” Marco laughed. “All of you are welcome to help. Ideally, we’re looking for those who don’t have a place or are looking for a safe place.”

“We appreciate the offer,” Mikasa stated, glancing briefly at the nymphs beside her, “but we need to get going.”

Jean’s eyebrows scrunched slightly. His expression stayed neutral, though the glee and optimism had started to fade. “You’re leaving so soon? For what?”

“You’re coming with us,” Eren said. He had stayed quiet throughout the conversation before, wary of the human before them. Marco knew it was a bad sign from the start. Did the forest nymph suspect something? “We need to get back home.”

The last word made Jean cringe. Even Marco refrained from using the word in a way that forced the fairy to call a place his own. It was associated with too many bad memories to be inserted into conversation. “I don’t have a home. Puck took that away from me and I haven’t been able to get it all back.”

“This again?” The nymph groaned. “Jean, you knew he would have never passed on the Puck legacy to you. That’s now how it works.”

Jean released Marco’s arm, and he flapped his wings over to Eren to stand in front of him and glare. “He told me he would! I was one of the most valuable beings in his life, and he threw it away for tradition!”

“He had mentioned giving you the name of Puck before,” Mikasa spoke up, stepping between the two divisively, “but you couldn’t have believed that he would actually go through with it.”

“Of course I did. You would have too, if he had said it to you.”

“No, I wouldn’t, because I’ve accepted how Pucks work out. You should have done the same.” Jean, now controlled by rage, crossed his arms and turned away. When a hand landed on his shoulder, he whipped away and fluttered to a spot a few feet away. “Jean—”

“I’m still figuring things out! It happened years ago, but that doesn’t mean it still hurts. I haven’t fully gotten over it yet.”

“How come?” Eren asked.

“I just haven’t, okay!?”

“Is it because of your new friend? Because he’s making a home for you?” When Jean didn’t answer, the nymph stepped closer to him. “Or do you  _ want _ him to be the house of your eternity?”

It had started as an observation and turned into an accusation, and Marco was stunned at the thought. He had barely walked on the eggshells on what home was for Jean, because it was a touchy subject that only he could bring up. Marco had no business in it, but now it looked like he did. The more Eren pressed, the more Jean’s face lit up bright red, his mouth opening and closing without sound. The realization that maybe, after all, Jean harbored feelings for him was creeping closer.

“I need to go,” Jean finally said. He flapped his wings and took off. Mikasa’s wings outstretched behind her, but Armin grabbed her arm before she could follow.

“He needs space,” the naiad pointed out. “Going after him will only make him angrier.”

Eren looked over at Marco quizzically, and he eyed the human up and down. “Has he talked to you about Puck?”

“We did, but only a few times,” he answered. Now that he was the center of their attention, he was hyper-aware of what he said and what was asked of him. “I accepted that it was something that happened and didn’t need to be talked about unless he wanted to.”

“Meaning you never brought it up?”

“No. He never liked talking about it, so I never pushed.”

Eren frowned and looked at the fairy and naiad. “That’s why Jean was so aggressive. He’s had no outlet.”

Marco was offended by that, if only because they barely knew one another and yet the nymph was making comments as if he was well-versed on the relationship they had taken up. “I was always there for him, whether he wanted to talk about his problems or not. For a while, I was the only good thing he had. He said as much, and he shows me in ways that I can’t even begin to list off.”

“Has he ever said it to you?” Mikasa asked.

“He doesn’t need to.”

The trio stayed silent, but a look of discovery crossed Armin’s face. His companions hadn’t noticed, but he stayed silent and kept his expression neutral. “Is there a place we can stay?” He asked. “I think it’s safe to say we would like to talk with him some more.”

Mikasa nodded in agreement; “I refuse to leave without him.”

Marco sighed, relieved that a crisis was avoided. “I have a couple of friends who offered to house you for as long as you need,” he said. He pulled out a sheet of paper, an address with instructions, and handed it to the fairy. “They were the ones who helped you communicate with Jean a few days ago. Reiner, Bertholdt, and Annie.”

“The mages.” She mulled on the thought briefly, then nodded in what looked liked approval. “I suppose we should go and thank them anyway.”

“What about Jean?” Eren demanded, tapping on her shoulder. “Are we just gonna let him go?”

“He’s probably just taking a quick fly-around to clear his head,” Marco responded, though it earned him a glower from the nymph. “He’ll return to my apartment when he’s calm. I can tell the mages so they can update you.”

“That would be much appreciated,” Mikasa said. Eren started to protest, but a glance from her and a hand on his shoulder from Armin stopped him. “We’ll be in touch.”

 

* * *

 

Jean didn’t return to the apartment, and trouble started to brew. Over the next few days, the federal government passed a law that required anyone who handled magic or was “a creature of supernaturality” to register as such and be subject to various background checks and surveillance. It ranged from the most mythical being, without human characteristics, and the least, including wizards and mages.

After it was issued, Marco’s entire world was flipped. Ymir, while still bearing fang marks in her neck, declared her leave and fled with her vampire girlfriend. Connie’s parents, one a wizard and the other a doctor for supernaturals, were nearly deported despite their American citizenship, and their son was quick to return home, with a declaration to help; Sasha followed him. Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt were kicked out of their apartment and forced to relocate—with Mikasa, Eren, and Armin still around—to Marco’s now empty home. Thankfully, Sasha and Ymir agreed to continue paying it so that he wasn’t kicked out.

Jean hadn’t returned. With graduation inching closer, and finals crammed into his head, it was difficult to concentrate. His pack worried more and more, becoming more like fugitives with each passing hour. Reiner and Bertholdt talked about finding a house for all of them, though money and student debt always silenced the conversation. There was little hope for anyone to grasp onto, and it was diminishing by the second. It broke when Mikasa made a stand.

“I’m going out to look for Jean,” she declared. Her wings were already out, and she was halfway out the living room window. The only thing keeping her in place was Armin holding her arm back. “He’s been missing for too long.”

“You’re acting on impulse,”Annie critiqued. She and Mikasa butted heads more often than they were friendly, but this time, she was coming from a genuine place. Mikasa sent her a glare at her input. “You don’t know this area, and you don’t know where to look. You’d be just as lost to us as he is.”

“Someone needs to do something.” The fairy focused her stare on Marco, standing not too far away from her but with enough distance. He knew well from experience just how willing an angry fairy could get in order to have their way. “You said he would come back.”

“He will,” Marco stated, though he sounded unsure even to his own ears. “I know he will. He’s gone off like this before, but I was never worried. He couldn’t have gone far.”

“If it’ll make you feel better, I can always track the airways to see if there’s been any fairy activity,” Bertholdt said. “It’s unlikely many will be flying through town, right?”

Mikasa didn’t answer. Armin took up the lead instead; out of the three, he had taken the time to get to know the training mages and enjoyed their company. “Fairies rarely, if ever, fly over cities and towns. They typically stay in more rural areas. If they have to, they’ll fly to the outskirts or a landing strip and walk from there. So you should be able to find him.”

Bertholdt had pulled out a book from his bag and sat down on the couch to flip through the pages. Reiner started to brew the cauldron in preparation; Annie put a protective charm over the apartment. “For protection,” she said. “In case anyone wants to spy on us.”

Eren and Armin were able to coax Mikasa back into the room, to give the mages a chance. She stepped back inside, wings retracted, but she stayed by the shut window. She exchanged glares with Annie as Bert whispered spells under his breath. The cauldron bubbled for a moment before the clear liquid inside turned into a cloudy white and began to gather at the center. For a brief second, a spire of wind stretched out above and gathered the liquid into a cyclone, but it dropped back down as quickly as it had risen. A few flicks of pink appeared on the surface, barely seen in the murky cauldron. Bertholdt, however, was pleased with the result and smiled.

“There’s been a fairy traveling around the area,” he stated. “The fairies who teach here are older, so their age doesn’t show. But this one’s young, for both a fairy and a human.”

“It’s him?” Mikasa confirmed.

“Most likely.”

The fairy squinted at him and scoffed. “That isn’t certain.”

“The tracking magic is never certain,” Annie pointed out. “Even when we contacted you three, there was a low chance of it actually being you.”

“Then find a better way to find him.”

“There is none. This is the best we have.”

Mikasa ended up staying, in order to pick a fight with Annie. They had to be separated for the rest of the night.

Marco didn’t go to bed until he was certain everyone else was asleep and the apartment would stay in one piece. Even then, he slept fitfully and never fell completely asleep. He was too distracted by Mikasa’s words. He understood how she would feel about Jean, but she hadn’t seen him for over a year. He changed in that span of time, physically and emotionally, and he was different from the crass fairy that had fallen from the sky with chipped wings, who used to rap his knuckles on the window for entry. If he listened closely, he could hear the sound reaching out from his memories, reminding him of a time where supernaturals weren’t offending the government as much.

When the tapping refused to stop, Marco had to sit up and look out the window to know that he wasn’t dreaming. From the streetlamps and moonlight outside, he could make out Jean’s ragged yet present figure, asking for permission to come in. Almost immediately, Jean collapsed through the window and into Marco’s arms.

“Surprise,” he murmured. Marco struggled to hold him up, and his arms came in contact with mud and grass. A deep rumble of a laugh came from below. “Got ya real good, didn’t I? Best prank ever.”

“Jean, where have you been?” Marco whispered harshly. “We’ve all been waiting for you to come back! I told Mikasa you wouldn’t be long, and she nearly ripped my head off.”

Jean snorted and pushed his cheek. He didn’t smell like alcohol, but the exhaustion was evident in his eyes. “You shouldn’t tell lies, Marco-rocko. You knew where I was.”

“No I didn’t! I thought you were blowing off steam and then you were gonna come back.”

“What am I, an eighties teen?” The fairy slumped further down until both he and Marco were on the floor, limbs tangled and knees knocked together. “Mrgh. I had to find your hope house.”

Marco tried to look down at him, to at least make eye contact, but Jean refused to sit up. “My what?”

“Y’r hope house. Y’know, th’one where you help superna—superb gnats—soup or—me. Where you help me and the things like me and give us a safe place to go.”

He was tired. There was no way Jean had done that within a few days—and all for him, no less, and without having to be asked. If he did it on his own, willingly, and with pleasure, then this was a cruel dream. “Jean, you…did you really find a hope house?” An unusual name choice, but there was a charming ring to it that he enjoyed.

“Mmmyep.” He fell silent, and Marco was concerned he had passed out, but then he started up like nothing had happened. “I heard about the government doing all the things and knew that if someone could help, that it would be you, my favorite freckled hummus.” Jean rolled out of his arms to lay on his back and splayed his limbs out like a star, staring at the ceiling. “By the way, I went to your wizard friends’ house and they weren’t there, I think they’re dead, but you might wanna check for me.”

“They’re not dead, Jean, they’re staying here.”

“Oh, no shit, cool. They can come with us.” With a single flap of his wings—which was a bit confusing, because how could he move with them pressed against the floor like that?—Jean hopped to his feet and pulled Marco up. The taller had to brace himself against the bed, because the fairy was unable to keep both of them steady. “C’mon, I’ll lead.”

“We can go in the morning—”

“ _ No _ .” Despite the drowsiness in his expression, Jean was able to stand his ground and make his point clear. “We need to go now. It’s the best way for us.”

There was no possible way he could convince the fairy otherwise. And maybe he found some type of truth to his words, because he barely resisted after that and agreed to go. They woke up the others and ushered them through the bedroom window, amidst questions on the previous whereabouts of their friend and where they were going. They carried the bare essentials on their back and promised to return for more.

Jean was quick to lead the way in the air, to avoid leaving a trail of traceable magic behind from teleportation. They waded through tall grass and wavering trees for what must have been an hour or so until they came across an abandoned house, in the middle of an open field hidden by a thick forest. It was boarded up save for a loose slate of wood on one of the windows, and it needed a new coat of paint and TLC, but it was in enough shape to be livable again.

“This is it,” Jean panted when they arrived at the front door. He collapsed against the patio and wheezed. His body was completely limp and drained. “The hope house.”

It could very well be a start for Marco’s dream of a supernatural sanctuary, if it was feasible in the first place. He barely knew how to run a business, and if he were to start one now, it would have to be an underground operation with a college dropout. Until the government cleaned up its act, the sanctuary was invisible.

“What’s the hope house?” Mikasa asked, looking between the mages and Marco.

“I think I know what it is,” Bertholdt said. He glanced at Marco for confirmation and got it.

“I think Jean is a little delirious right now—”

“I’m a fairy,” Jean protested softly.

“But I know what he’s referring to,” Marco finished with a smile. “I’ve always wanted to help supernaturals and make a place where they can be accepted and live in peace without threats or bigotry. All I would ask for is kindness and respect for others, and I would let them stay for as long or short as they want—” He cut off his rambling, startled that he had lost the point of her question, and shook his head. “But there’s so much more that has to go into it. I can’t do it by myself, and I don’t know how to even start it, let alone run it.”

“You got us,” Reiner offered. Annie scrunched her nose, but Bertholdt nodded. “We don’t mind lending a hand or six.”

Mikasa eyed Jean, snoring on the patio, and looked back at Marco critically. Her gaze made him feel like his life depended on his answer. “I don’t think Jean’s going to leave you,” she observed, “so we’ll have to stay here for a while.” Her gaze wandered to the nymphs, the naiad showing more approval. “I think we can be of use.”

“But it’s not permanent, right?” Eren asked. “We can leave once Jean’s done here?”

“I plan on it.”

“You don’t have to leave, you know,” Marco pointed out. “I wouldn’t mind if you stayed. We’re supposed to be building a safe space anyway.”

“I appreciate it, but we have other things to work on.”

Marco didn’t voice his opinion for fear of upsetting or offending someone. Instead, he nodded in confirmation of Mikasa’s request and helped her get Jean inside. There was enough space dusted off—probably from Jean’s adventure—for them to set up sleeping bags. There was a lot to do, in the upcoming days. The sanctuary was going to take work—months, days, possibly years. He only had the wish in his mind and a rough outline of how to make it happen. There was no way he could get it to reality.

 

* * *

 

Six months later, Marco laughed just for thinking that he wasn’t capable of making the safe space.

Once Jean was awake and eating, after he had searched for a house to the point of exhaustion, he was on board to help make the sanctuary. He refused to leave, much to the dismay of Eren and Mikasa, and was dedicated to running it in whatever way he could. Although he did attempt to convince Marco  _ not _ to use the name “Hope House” as the land’s name, he had no backlash to provide. He wanted to make it as much as Marco did.

Many things were different, though some factors stayed the same. Hope House was a growing community of supernaturals who were allowed to stay, permanently or temporarily, and reside in peace. Marco managed daily operations and struggled to expand and provide more, while Mikasa ran more hands-on duties for supernaturals, from moving them into homes and hostels to feeding everyone and making sure no wild animals broke free. Eren and Armin handled the guest list, keeping track of each visitor and resident, checking to make sure everyone was accommodated and sending in recommendations to Marco for the buildings the mages could construct. Jean did what he knew best: guarding Hope House and checking the wards placed over the town that hid it from all but those inside.

Everyone in the sanctuary contributed in some way: Ymir and her vampire girlfriend took care of night guard duty, due to their lack of need for sleep; Sasha was the sanctuary’s doctor for anyone, human or not, and her nurse Connie managed medications and regular appointments. It was suggested by Annie and upheld by the founding members of Hope House that everyone help contribute to the well-being of the sanctuary, no matter how little or large. So much had gone into establishing it, from a lowly abandoned house covered in cobwebs to a sparkling new town filled with activity.

Marco’s dream had life. He reminded himself of that every day when he woke up, though some days had him reminiscing more than usual. It was a weekend, so little was happening on his schedule, and dinner would be at the town hall, primarily for temporary guests but open for all. Because of the lack of items for his day, he liked to go around town and check in with everyone, helping them if they needed it and chatting with residents.

The construction site would be his first stop. Annie, Reiner, and Bertholdt had dedicated themselves to building whatever was needed for the town. The walls were reinforced with magic, and the foundation was protected with charms. Their work never seemed to stop, but they were given a week-long break once a project was finished to relax and gain some energy back. Most recently, they were working on a birdhouse for creatures of flight, specifically ones without human characteristics. They were trying to rescue as many as they could, before poachers got to them.

Marco walked up to the site and saw a bright phoenix resting on Reiner’s arm. He chatted with the tall blond, who nodded and hummed to each squawk. When he caught sight of Marco, Reiner waved with his free hand and grinned.

“We were waiting for you to show up,” he teased. The phoenix peered over at the freckled male with a quiet huff, as if disappointed of his tardiness.

“I slept in again,” Marco admitted. He reached out a hand for the bird, and the phoenix leaned forward for a pat. The bird stopped by regularly for food and a hello, and Reiner was convinced that he understand English. “I was up last night fighting for more property. One of the dryads pointed out how little foliage we have around here, so I’ve been trying to find the best place for a garden.”

“I hear Eren and Armin have a solution for that,” Bertholdt said, one hand holding a leash and the other a dead squirrel. At the end of the lead was a hippogriff, large in presence but playful in temperament, as seen in the way he lunged for his breakfast and squawked when it wasn’t given to him. “They’ve been working on it ever since they heard about it.”

Marco took the squirrel and bowed to the hippogriff, waiting for the returned gesture, and then tossed the rodent into his waiting beak. “Have you gotten a name for him yet?”

“We’re trying to decide between Atticus and Barnaby.”

“I like Barnaby,” Reiner chimed in. The phoenix tapped the top of his head for attention. “Hey, bud, I didn’t forget about you! Wait your turn!”

The hippogriff flapped his wings and hopped in place, wanting to be released, but Bertholdt had a tight grip. He grimaced at Marco. “He cries at night, and Connie says it’s probably from the captivity he was in, but the satyrs slacken his lead so he has some freedom and don’t put him back, so he ends up getting free. Annie’s at the west barn so that Sasha can look at him.”

Marco reached for the lead and wrapped it once around his hand. “Do we know how long he’ll be there?”

“Sasha says the max is four days, so he can heal fully and not have to move around so much, but we’ll be done with the lower half of the birdhouse by then.”

The birdhouse was definitely Hope House’s most impressive building yet: the ground level looked like a stable with individual slots for their bird hybrids, with a shared area for visitors or animals to relax with them. All it needed was a few more binds to the structure and some interior decorating, and it was set. The upper floor was going to be more open, with a balcony and perches built into the wood. It was much more accommodating for non-birds than the floor below; the plan was to possibly make it into a post office, once they found someone who could run it.

“You guys might actually be done with it before the deadline,” Marco stated, and he smiled at both of them. “Otherwise, it looks great!”

With parting words and promises to talk more over dinner that night, Marco walked Atticus/Barnaby to the western barn. It wasn’t far from the birdhouse, but it was a fair walk away. Some children ran up to the hippogriff and waited for permission before being allowed to pet and gawk at him up close. From the yard behind the doctor’s office, Sasha waved as she and Connie helped a centaur get used to a prosthetic leg. Mikasa passed by, on her way to finalize papers for some residents, and she greeted the hippogriff with a soft pat on the head.

When he arrived at the barn, Annie took the lead from him and was quick to move herself, and the hippogriff, out of the way. Marco wasn’t quite sure why until a rubbery object smashed into the back of his head and a wetness spread over his back. Of course.

“I’m surprised you didn’t aim for my butt, like last time,” he said with a sigh.

Jean floated into view, tossing a water balloon in one hand and holding a slingshot in the other. A smirk danced on his features. “I’m trying to spice things up a little.”

Marco rolled his eyes and shot a weak glare at Annie, who was suddenly busy with grooming Atticus/Barnaby. “And you had help.”

The tiny blonde shrugged; “He pays well.”

Jean landed, wings put away. “And everyone wants to see someone get pelted with a cabbage balloon.”

So that was the smell. “How did you even get cabbage?” His answer was a stifled laugh from the fairy and a hurried excuse to do something else from behind. He should have known they had collaborated; as serious as she could be, Annie was willing to get involved in some hijinks.

“It’ll wash off, don’t worry.”

“Oh I’m sure. And by then, everyone will know.”

Jean laughed and nudged his shoulder. “To you? I would never!”

Marco scoffed and took the towel offered to him by his friend, drying his hair and shirt as best he could. “Aren’t you supposed to be on guard?”

“Ymir and her girl wanted some alone time, so I gave them the space for a bit.” He checked the town’s clock tower in the distance and hummed. “Got about five more minutes.”

“How generous of you.” He tossed the damp towel at the fairy. “I think you’re softening up a bit, Jean.”

“Well, we made a deal.” The mischievous expression had melted quickly into a flustered one, complete with a loss of eye contact and a rise of the shoulders. “I gave them space, and I got to see…know what, it’s not important, and I should be getting back.”

Jean’s wings appeared, but Marco grabbed onto his wrist and held him down. There was no way he was getting away that easily without an explanation—and after saying something suspicious like that? It was unfair. “Are you seeing someone, Jean?”

The fairy tugged on his arm to free it, but Marco didn’t budge. “You know, I think Ymir might actually need me. We were gonna practice sparring, but we didn’t have time—”

“Come on, don’t try that with me!” Marco released him, hoping he would stay. The wings were still out, and he fluttered above the ground, but he wasn’t leaving. “Who is it?”

“I…” Jean glanced at something behind the human, eyes widening slightly, before he took off. The water balloon he held dropped in his hurry to leave. “I’ll tell you later!”

That was just unfair. But perhaps it wasn’t that big of a deal. Jean hadn’t ever shown interest in anyone, even though many had tried—fairy, satyr, human, nymph. He just didn’t want to pursue relationships like that. For a while, Marco was convinced that he had no interest, but Mikasa contradicted those thoughts. According to her, there were two possibilities: Jean wanted to be with someone he had yet to make a move towards; or, he was waiting for someone to come along.

“Want a ride back to town?” Annie asked from behind. She might have been the one to spook Jean off. Marco nodded with a sigh and a sheepish smile as she pulled out her wand. “You know, I never knew you would fall for the idiot type.”

“What does that m—” Before he could interrogate her, she was casting the spell, and he was looking at the walls of the teleportation center. He cursed under his breath; the next person to cut him off like that was going to hear about it.

Thankfully, the teleportation center—the main port for travel by magic—was right next to the welcome center and main offices of Hope House, where he and the founders could be found if they weren’t in their fields. It was the first house they had renovated, and it had few changes since they had arrived six months before. Thankfully, the only ones who would have to encounter the strong cabbage smell were Eren and Armin, hunched over the reception desk and talking in hushed whispered. When he arrived, they looked up to greet him, but were put off by the smell.

“Oh, gods, you stink,” Eren said with a crinkle of his nose. “What did you shower in?”

“Jean,” Marco answered flatly. It was enough of an answer for them, having gone under many pranks from the fairy. He went behind the front desk and dug into one of the lower drawers, looking for something to ease the smell.

“I thought he moved away from water-based tricks,” Armin frowned.

“We all did.” He gave up on the search when nothing appeared, and he slumped in one of the free chairs. “Are you guys having a good day?”

At first, Jean’s pack stayed only because they refused to leave without him and, in return, he refused to leave Marco. Although it took time, the trio eventually accepted where they were and started to enjoy being around their new companions. It might have helped that Jean and the mages were around and had magical backgrounds they could relate to. But Marco was quickly liked by all three, and he could entrust them with his life if the situation ever came up.

Armin passed over the paper they were working on: a rough sketch of a few treehouses surrounding a natural spring. “We’re trying to design an area for dryads, once we get the property,” he explained. “Since they normally prefer to live near their nature sources, Eren and I decided to work on a place that looks more familiar to them.”

Eren, although still put off by the smell of cabbage, leaned over with enthusiasm and pointed at each tree. “They would already be planted, but we may need more,” he added, “but it should be okay, since it’ll take a while until Reiner, Bert, and Annie can get to it anyway. But look!” His finger ghosted over the tiniest details; “It’s open enough that the tree can still be accessed, and we can have little gardens surrounding it, and it’ll have that nice fairy saying over the gate that leads to it—what was it, Armin?”

“‘Home is the house of my eternity’,” he recited with a smile.

“I like that,” Marco hummed. “It sounds warm and pleasant. But what’s the spring for?”

“Well, we’re trying to design homes for naiads,” Armin stated. He pulled out a new page and pointed to one of the many drawings. “But it’s not very easy.”

“The best we could think of is putting pods, but that would interfere with the environment,” Eren said. “But we can’t just leave the naiads out to dry!”

“I could help you guys, if you need it,” the human offered. “I’m not doing much else today, aside from meeting with Mikasa after dinner.”

“Seriously?” The nymph’s forest green eyes widened with glee. “You wanna help?”

“Of course I do! This is one of the best ideas you two have had in awhile.”

Armin winced at that, probably remembering what had happened with the first bell tower they had put up, but he shook it off and searched the desk drawers for more supplies. “We’ve tried converting the dryad model for water, but it didn’t transfer over well, so we’ll have to try something new.”

For the next few hours, the trio sketched out various designs and examples of what could be done. Eventually, Eren made a design that worked well—a series of cave-like cubbies for each naiad, formed out of the ground itself—and they went on sizing it all. Marco brought out the plans for the new land he was trying to get, and they shaped it accordingly so that it fit. It was well into the afternoon by the time they were finished, and Mikasa got them to help with dinner just as they agreed on the last detail.

Marco put the final sketches and plans together so he wouldn’t lose any of them, and he went upstairs to put them in his office. As he was locking the drawer he kept them in, a knock came on the window. He looked outside to find Jean, perched on the sill and waiting to be let in. It reminded him of rooming together, when their relationship was more strained than friendly. The fairy gave a little wave and a nervous smile, and Marco let him in.

“Kinda nostalgic, don’t you think?” He teased. Once Jean was standing in front of him, however, there was a taut tension. Jean wasn’t smiling, and his expression was grave, serious to a sharp point. “Is everything okay?”

Jean let out a long sigh and looked down at his hands longingly. He scuffed his feet against the boards and gathered the courage to look up at him. Amber eyes shone with a transparency that cut into his heart, an honesty that made his legs wobble. “Have you heard of the fairy legend,” he began quietly, “about what ‘home’ means?”

Marco wondered if it was what Eren and Armin had mentioned earlier, but didn’t want to be wrong and scare Jean off. So he shook his head, careful not to move too much and startle the fairy. He wished he would get on with what he wanted to say instead of dragging it out.

“I, ah…I always liked how it sounded. It was just nice and warm and…I always wanted to use it for someone, because, y’know, it’s sentimental—don’t give me that look! I’m a sentimental guy!”

He was unable to keep a straight face at the remarks, and he stifled his laughter behind his hand. “I’m sorry, I know, I know. You’re a big softie underneath that undercut. Go on.”

Jean huffed and flicked his cheek. “If you’re gonna make fun of me, I won’t tell you.”

“Aww, come on, Jean.” Marco moved on his own accord: his arms wrapped around Jean’s waist and pulled him tight against him, laughing joyously and looking at him—with the slightest height advantage—with all the adoration he could muster. He didn’t realize how vulnerable he had made himself, and how wrong it was to make a move like that, until he saw the shock on Jean’s face. That was not what he was expecting, and the disgust was about to show. “I, uh—”

Marco started to move back, but Jean grabbed his arms and pinned them against him, keeping him in his embrace. He surged forward and captured his lips in a fierce kiss, clanging teeth together and desperately forming against him. Marco gasped into it and tried to gain his bearings to kiss back, but the fairy was moving back before he could make his move.

“‘House of my eternity’,” he whispered. “For all the shit we may get, fairies like the idea that home is where their heart can be entrusted forever. A-and it can be anyone, doesn’t matter who. Meaning, you don’t have to be romantically involved, but it’s nice if you are, but it’s okay if you’re n—”

This time, Marco leaned forward to kiss him, silencing Jean in his nervous ramble. Otherwise, he would knocked himself out of the trance and retreated. Marco knew how he acted in situations like that, flustered and embarrassed and just wanting to run. This time, he had no worries, because there were mutual feelings. For so long, they had been there, waiting for a sign to move forward. And the fairy’s words from earlier rang in his head, about getting the chance to see someone. He didn’t have to wonder or worry about who Jean wanted to see.

When they separated this time, Jean’s eyes were closed and he breathed with contentment and relief. “The house of my eternity is you. That’s what I wanted to say.”

Marco chuckled and nuzzled him softly. “I figured. You were just taking a while.”

“I didn’t wanna ruin the moment, jerk.”

“You were getting nervous.”

Jean’s protest died on his lips, and he pouted. “Okay, smarty. So you know me well, congrats. But I was getting somewhere nice.”

“Then tell me now.” He folded his hands behind Jean’s back and swayed gently. “You have all the time in the world.”

“You sure?” He glanced out the window, though he looked to be in no hurry to leave. “We might miss dinner.”

“I don’t mind if we do.”

“Everyone will talk. Reiner will fucking say something, I know he will.”

“I don’t care.” Marco pecked his cheek and smiled. “I just want to hear  _ you _ talk.”

Jean’s eyes shone at that, but he smirked and leaned forward. “No you don’t.” They were kissing again, falling against the desk and to the floor, in a mess of limbs and giggles and joy that finally, they had done it. For so long, the question had remained on the outskirts and hadn’t been uttered out loud until now. Marco swore to himself that they were going to enjoy it.

They were late to dinner, subjected to taunts and quips about where they had been, and Marco couldn’t have cared less.

 

* * *

 

Four years. That’s how long he had known Jean. If he had been told that a fairy would come crashing out of the sky and end up as his lifelong companion, he would have laughed. Marco never expected a fairy would fall on him, and he never expected he would fall for a fairy. But they both happened, and he couldn’t ask for anything more perfect.

During Marco’s brief morning reminiscing, he noticed the body beside him had turned over on his stomach during the night. Pink translucent wings shielded him, protecting Marco from any threats that may make it to their house. Ever since they had started Hope House, there had been no threats or break-ins from outside forces. They were safe. But nightmares always lingered.

Jean stirred from his sleep a little while later, yawning and stretching. His wings flapped and vanished into his back once he noticed Marco was awake. He smiled dazedly and rested his head against his chest. “Hello, my good sir,” he mumbled. “You’re looking mighty fine today.”

“Your breath has seen better days,” Marco pointed out, and the fairy swatted at him.

“You’ll still kiss me, though, so who’s the real loser?”

“Hmmm, let me think.” He ran a hand through Jean’s hair as he kissed him, slow and familiar and cozy. The soft sighs beside him as he toyed with the blond strands only fueled his urge to make his point. When he moved away, the fairy was biting his lip shyly and silently asking for more of that, please. “I think it has to be you.”

Jean reached up to tug on his hair, riddled with cowlicks as usual, and Marco bit back a moan. “You sure about that? Because I can go all day.”

“I know you can.” Marco gently moved his hand away and entangled it. Their palms still fit so nicely together. “But we have work to do.”

“Work can wait.”

“Don’t you have sphinxes to train? Werewolves to help? Vampires to teach?”

“ They can wait. I wanna kiss you, just one more.” The request was fulfilled with an eyeroll and a sigh, but the smiles still lingered. “Okay, just one more, I promise.”

“Jean—”

“I promise! Look,” he pecked his lips, paused between them, and dove back in for more. Marco, giggling, pushed him back and sat up. Jean flopped against the bed and frowned up at him. “You’re no fun when you’re in your morning business mood. Your nighttime business mood is nice, because of the sex, but when the sun’s up, you’re in such a hurry to leave.” He raised a leg and kicked Marco in the behind. “Fuck you.”

“Mm, you will, love.” He kissed the top of his head and smiled at the fairy, reminded once more of the dork he had fallen for. “After work.”

“Eugh. You almost turned me on.”

Marco stood up and started to rifle through his closet, searching for clothes to wear. “You love it, though. The teasing, the anticipation, the romance.”

“I love  _ you _ .”

“Aww, no way.” He peeked out the door to smirk at the fairy in bed. “You only tell me every five minutes.”

Jean rolled his eyes, and Marco went back to gathering his outfit for the day. He hadn’t even noticed his boyfriend had left the bed until he came out and put his clothes on the empty sheets.  _ Oh no. _

“Jean, come on. Is this gonna be worth it?”

Silence. Marco wondered if he had flown out of the house again, though remembered it was starting to get colder. His suspicions were answered from above, as a blond-haired fairy dropped into his arms, grinning and laughing. Jean kissed his cheek despite his comments on how despicable he was, how dorky he was, how much he loved him.

“It’s worth it for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Just some little writer's notes for this so that there's no confusion:
> 
> -so a nymph is an overall term for nature spirits, like water or forests, but it's also used generally for forest nymphs, which is what Eren is; Armin's a naiad, a water nymph, because he has pretty eyes like the ocean and also for ~canon similarities~  
> -also nymphs are "female" spirits but fuck that lmao gender is stupid they can be whatever they want in this universe  
> -Puck is one of the main characters in Shakespeare's "A Midsummer Night's Dream" but he's also in one of my favorite YA series, "The Sisters Grimm," and I may or may not have modeled Jean after him  
> -Ymir's vampire girlfriend is Historia, but not naming her explicitly was more fun :)  
> -also also more ~canon similarities~ for Jean and Mikasa but they don't have a romantic interest in each other? They're just good buds because I think they'd make a great team
> 
> I think that's all, but either way, I really hope you enjoyed this, chibichan! I hope it's as much fun to read as it was to write :)


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